


Mystery

by MasKaiHilFantic



Category: Castle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasKaiHilFantic/pseuds/MasKaiHilFantic
Summary: Muses aren't supposed to be this engaging!





	Mystery

**Finally, after months of grueling University studies I have finished my first one shot in a long time! And yes, this is for my favourite crime solving duo, Castle & Beckett. Hello everyone, MasKaiHilFantic at your service with another (hopefully) quirky one shot. This one is for all those creators who struggle to keep their work to themselves. I hope you all enjoy this little rendition of the similar problem.**

**I don't own Castle. Enjoy!**

* * *

_What could she be writing?_

The question nagged him to death. She sat right in front of him in her usual seat, almost inches from him and yet it felt like she was miles away. Maybe it was the resolute look she had on her face as she typed along, Maybe it was the fact itself that she was writing. Maybe he was just rubbing himself on her–after all, spending time with a New York bestselling author would eventually have some influence on her. Not to mention they were sleeping together.

Or maybe it was that little playful sparkle in her eye that only he could see, a sparkle that he became recognized with so intimately. A sparkle that was plain out mocking him.

"Okay," he slapped the desk before leaning across and staring her in the eyes, "I have never seen you type away at a computer with like that and I know well by now that police reports aren't that long."

"Oh pipe down Castle, I'm just writing." She nonchalantly swayed the pestering author away before getting back to what she was doing.

Castle smoldered as he slouched back into his chair. Oh, Beckett was good; too good for his own good sometimes. There were moments when he thought that she was aware of herself being too much to handle for him, and she used it to her advantage. Or as he likes to coin the term, abuse it.

And then there was Kate Beckett; clicking away at her keyboard with a pen loosely hanging out of her mouth, eyes roving the screen in front of her all the while Castle observing much to his chagrin. He felt almost offended at the notion that he was not being ignored by his girlfriend while she does exactly what he does, which would end up vexing her!

Maybe the effect really had rubbed on her completely; maybe she was on her way to be the next and (probably) first female Richard Castle.

Or as Beckett likes to say, maybe Castle is a dumbass.

* * *

Amidst the usual hustle and bustle at the 12th Precinct, the tension at their table could be cut with a knife. He was dying to know what she was writing. It wasn't your everyday Kate Beckett that sat there, sure the caustic remarks at him were there and they were live, but he just wasn't used to seeing her type along with such determination; not even he wrote like that!

"Remember, always use whom, not who." He attempted to garner her attention away from the computer, it worked,  
"Oh calm down Castle, I've written before. I know what to use when." She replied back with a smug smirk curved along her features. "Besides, it's not like I need an editor, unlike you."

Ooh that hit him hard. She could practically feel Castle's face squirm in disgust. No one ever dared to say something simple yet blatant to his face.

"I'm telling you, I—"

"Yo, Beckett!" Espesito interrupted the mocked writer, "I just got off the phone with the tenant of our vic's apartment and—" even he could see the fuming writer's visible scorn. "What's up with little Castle blue over here?"

"Oh nothing, he just can't handle the fact that someone is a better writer than him," Beckett replied before forking her tongue at the jealous author who turned the other way.

Espesito looked at him with a look fused with amusement and indifference, "Anyways, turns out our vic had made advanced payments for her apartment on the day he died."

"How much did she pay?" Beckett said.

"$5000."

"Whoa," Castle turned to the Hispanic, "how could she pay double her rent on the same day she was killed? Unless someone paid on her behalf."

"Well maybe whoever killed her wanted to make it look like she went missing rather than getting killed." Beckett assumed.

"Hey," Ryan chimed in with his usual brisk walk, "so I was going through our vic's financials, turns out she deposited around $5000 in her account three days before she was killed."

"That's the same amount of money she gave to her tenant." Beckett said rubbing her chin.  
"Yeah and on the day she was killed, she withdrew that same amount of money from her account." Ryan added.  
"$5000?"  
"Mmhmm."

"First, she disappears then she or someone else deposits $5000 into her bank account and then that someone withdraws that very same amount out? Seems suspicious enough." Castle theorized trying to ignore the fact that Beckett was typing as he spoke.

"Okay why don't you two contact the bank? See who's been taking money in and out of her account. Could be that Castle's theory is right." Beckett ordered the other two detectives.

"My theories are always correct." Castle interjected.

"Don't be so cocky Castle; this isn't one of your _books_ that things go the way you _write._ " Beckett taunted back stressing on the words that she was sure would hit him right in the ego.

And sure enough, Castle's face contorted.

"Ooh," Espesito gently bit his fingers at her verbal lambast, "She killed you bro."  
"Did I miss something?" Ryan chirped in.

"Castle thinks I'm writing a book and that is too much to handle for him," Beckett replied.

"Ah-ha! So you are writing a book," Castle accused the brunette detective.

"Oh, shut up," she immediately shot any doubt down, "I'm not writing a book."

"But you admit that you're writing," Castle argued back, "and you say you've been reading my books again. And whenever I want to write, I reread my old material."

Beckett threw an annoyed glare at him, "I can't believe you're so worked up over me typing."

"Yeah get a grip Castle," suggested Espesito.  
"It's not like she'll overtake you in the literacy race." Ryan rubbed in, by now they both were aware of Castle's fuming jealousy for the detective.

"If you two are done mocking Mr. Writer's block," Beckett stressed at the two goofs, "we have a murderer to catch."

The two 'goofs' fumbled with their fingers and bumbled a few words before heading off, not before catching Castle farcing the two with a taunting smile.

"And you," the brunette turned to the mocking man, "stop being a petulant pansy and get back to work."

"Work?" Castle hissed through his grimace.

Beckett looked sideways in light disbelief, "Yes Castle, work. As in, working in solve the case."

"Oh no, no detective Beckett–" Castle shook his head, "–it is you who is supposed to be working here."

"Excuse me?"  
"Yes, you."  
"But I am working here,"

"No, detective Beckett; you appear to be writing."

"Castle I'm not writing—" she defended herself before striking a hunch, "I see. This is a ploy where you end up asking me what I'm writing."

"N—no", Castle swallowed before Beckett leaned towards him and looked him in the eye.  
"There is no chance in hell you're finding out what I'm writing." Certainly, she brought the heat with the comment because Castle slightly stumped.

"This isn't over," a seemingly defeated Castle got up before marching away leaving a satisfied Beckett bask in her glory.

* * *

"Oh lighten up darling," Martha tried to comfort a grumpy Castle, as he stared at the candescent Manhattan skyline.  
"I can't believe she would write without telling me," he grumbled slumping on his hands looking through his window.  
"Oh Richard," his mother pitied him, knowing sometimes he was just too much to handle, "it's not like she's cheating on you or anything."

"Mother, she is," Martha felt her heart stop for a moment before swallowing hard as Castle got up,  
"With whom?" Martha asked, concerned.  
"With my writing muse."

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. Truly he was too much to handle.

* * *

The next morning Castle strolled into the precinct, coffee cup in either hand. He was hoping that Beckett's writing ghost had been lifted off of her and she was back to her plain, mysterious self; probably staring at the whiteboard for clues.

But she was typing, and she had the same look from the night before. It was even more intense. And from the looks of the small sweat beads clinging on her forehead—that only _he_ saw—she was nearing the end of her mystery writing.

But what was it?!

"Working late again aren't we?" Castle assumed a faux interest in her writing as he sat down besides her, his smile still as radiant as before, hiding his visible fixation behind it.

"Uh, yeah," Beckett rested her head on one hand, ran the other through her hair and let out a tired sigh.  
"This case is driving me nuts."

"You didn't even come home," Castle continued. How strange he called his house Beckett's 'home'.

"No, slept here," She took the coffee mug from the writer's hand and drank from it. Castle's mouth opened slightly at the sheer audacity she displayed. Then again she was tired.

"Ah, I see you've been writing the report," Castle played his cards, if only the tired Beckett would creak slightly…  
Her eyebrows suddenly rose, before turning to the inquisitive writer, "Uh…yeah, yeah. Also doing a background on the victim's sister; her disappearance seems suspicious."

"Ah, the old 'sibling rivalry' theory, excellent," Castle remarked, "One sibling is jealous of another. First it's over attention, and then comes the toys, then the school supplies. Slowly it turns into boyfriends–or girlfriends in this case, then marriage, and so on,"

Beckett continued to look at him with a false interested look of her own; it's the only way she would bear through his over-the-top theories.

"If you're done with your presentation," she barely managed to utter, "I found something interesting–"with that she spun on her chair and faced the other computer on the desk behind her. A few keystrokes later a big pile of financial statements flooded the desktop.

Castle's eyes bulged in shock, "Are they—"  
"Yep–"Beckett nodded, "– our victim's financial records. I spent the entire night trying to add up how the whopping $5000 even made their way to our vic. Turns out that our victim owned another back account! A private bank account under a false identity."

She turned to Castle with eyes that only he recognized the eyes of a solved case.

"The 5000 that were in our vic's previous account, were wired through this very same account."

"Astounding," Castle cracked a soft smile, "so you have this case cracked open haven't you?"

"Uh no–"Beckett stretched back on her chair, "–we still have to prove that it was someone else other than our victim who had access to this mystery account."

"You think someone else had the money wired through this account?"

"Mmhmm," Beckett nodded, "I'm just waiting for the bank statements to come back–"she pointed at the computer behind her. Castle noticed the subtle action.

 _"She didn't point at the computer in front of her,"_ he speculated, before a realization hitting him hard, _"the one in front of her has her mystery novel in it!"_

By now anyone would say that Mr. Castle was taking this too far. So she was writing some fantastic novel filled with adventure, thrilling action, emphatic statements, and heart aching drama paired with occasional steaminess—

_Wait a minute…_

"How does 'the Lost Crusaders' sounds?" Castle suggested. Beckett turned to him with a confused gaze, "What are you talking about?"

"It's a name of a book," he played it cool. "What do you think of it?"  
"I think it's pretty good," she turned to him, one hand casually resting on another chair and her legs crossed, "but where are you coming with this?"

"Oh it's just that my friend is writing their first novel and they needed a name, so I thought of this and decided to run it by you first," Castle was careful to enunciate with great concern, he couldn't let Beckett in on him.

But this was Kate Beckett that was being talked about.

"Really?" She feigned interest with palpable hints of suspicion. She then hunched forward and allowed Castle just a glimpse of her shirt. The small collar of her shirt just allowed a peek at her…

"And who is this friend of yours, hm?"

Castle, too distracted by the view barely managed to utter, "Kate…"

"Kate, huh?"

Castle forced his eyes shut and shook his head. What had he done! He'd let his guard down for the only unexpected he had expected from her—her seductiveness.

"Kate….Ambrose," Castle swallowed hard.  
"Oh, what does this Kate Ambrose looks like?"

"We contacted through the internet," Castle made use of the quickest lie that he'd learnt as a child, the Internet.

"Oh really?" She continued to tease him. "Didn't you ask for her photo? I mean surely she must've seen you and would just…love to show you...a picture of herself?"

Castle stumbled again; he knew that Beckett knew that any die-hard Rick Castle fan would surely send her photograph to the esteemed author, looking to kill two birds with one stone.

Beckett knew that she had Castle against the ropes. She'd seen that nervous glare enough times to realize that Castle was cracking.

"Um, yes, because she's uh…shy." He weakly replied.

"Shy?" She wasn't buying any of it. She saw through him and was determined to get her answer.

"Okay, Castle what is it?" She crossed her arms and sat up straight, staring right into his eyes.  
"What is it Beckett?"  
"You know what, why are you so desperate to find out what I am doing on my computer?"

She had it him there, he knew that. He apparently had no choice.

He heaved a heavy sigh, "Okay, I'll tell you…"

"I'm waiting."

"Well…."

"Hey Beckett!" Ryan called her from the other room, "You got to see this."

 _Shit_ , she cursed under her breath. She was just close to find out why Castle was after her private stuff. "I'll be there." But before she went to Ryan, Beckett slammed the table for emphasis, "This isn't over Castle, I'm going to find out what and why are you so stubborn to know what I am writing." She growled and left. But she had mistakenly said the magic words that Castle craftily caught during the whole conversation.

"So she is writing," he hummed through his teeth with a smirk, "well let us find out what." As his hand drew nearer the computer, Castle's heartbeat suddenly grew; what mystery was to be beholden to the eager writer? What anecdote would the anticipated author was to be exposed? What—

"Don't you dare, bro."

His trail of alliteration was interrupted by a familiar Hispanic voice. He turned around to see Esposito, even more indifferent yet threatening.

"What?" The author tried to joke it off.  
"What nothing, you were going to sneak into Beckett's computer, weren't you?" The Hispanic accused.  
"What? No! No, no that's outrageous," Castle answered, well it was outrageous—to sneak into someone's computer during work!

"You try to even peek at that screen, and I'll pop one in your head." The detective simply said before heading towards Beckett's direction, probably to check out what Ryan had found out. Left scared and still, Castle slowly got up from his chair and went to get a coffee for himself, as soon as he'd stop shaking so bad.

* * *

A few days went by since Castle's failed attempt to sneak peek at Beckett's work. He'd mostly given up, figuring no way was he going to get a gander at the mysterious manuscript. He may not have been letting it off but Beckett instantly noticed the change in him, even if it was slight; slightly more secrecy, slightly paying less attention to the case, slightly paying attention to her as well. It wasn't even a major change, not even Alexis or Martha picked it up let alone the people at the precinct. But she did and she was now curious to find out why he was acting so different.

Even though she already knew why.

* * *

A week after the Espo standoff, Castle was sitting idly in his chair doing some writing of his own, in long hand of course. Beckett approached him, "Hey," she sat down and put a cup of fresh latte in front of him.  
"Oh, hi." He simply replied, not lifting his gaze from the paper.  
"What cha writing?" She asked as casual as she could.  
"Oh, just some ideas for my new book," from the sounds of it, Castle had either forgotten about her mystery writing, or was a very good manipulator. And Beckett had excellent reason to believe the second scenario.

"Alright, what is it Castle?" She finally asked, having enough of this silly game.  
"What?" Castle asked back, this time lifting the gaze from the paper, and what he saw made him wish he hadn't; a crossed Beckett with impatience and vengeance looming her eyes.

"What's with the ignoring Castle?"  
"I didn't ignore you."  
"Okay… then what's with the secrecy?"  
"What secrecy?"

Either he was aloof or he was punishing her. Again Beckett went with the second rationale.

"Is this about me not showing you my writing?"

That made Castle stop writing and look at her intently, "I don't know, is it?"

"You can't expect someone else to write?" She annoyingly demanded. This had gone a little too far, especially since they were sleeping together.

"Your writing doesn't bother me, rather you keeping it such a secret does." He answered curtly.

"Okay, fine. I'm sorry about keeping it a secret from you. I shouldn't have done that knowing that you are a writer. "She heaved out.  
"Alright, I also apologize for prying on your privacy. I should've respected your space and let you do whatever you wanted….or write whatever you wanted." He admitted. They both felt like a huge weight had been lifted of their shoulders. They both inhaled deeply, apparently free of the load this writing had toiled on them.

After a few minutes of recollecting, Castle asked, "So, I will ask you this one time only, what are you writing?"  
"Fanfiction."

She expected another banter of a rant from him, after all almost every illustrated author shuns the fanfiction writing world because of their outrageous abuse to their 'literacy license', but Castle's features had a smile creased along them.

"You're…not mad?"

"Please tell me you're writing what I am thinking."

Beckett let out an inaudible chuckle, hooked some strands of her hair behind her ear, pursed her lips before uttering the magical words

"Nikki Heat and Derrick Storm crossover."

Castle's smile brightened, "Tell me everything about it." Kate Beckett dragged her chair sideways and allowed Castle to lift his chair and place it besides her. He then proceeded to read Kate's work, while the nervous brunette looked on. After going through the story, Kate asked, "How is it?"

"Could use a little work, but really well done."  
"Really?" Castle nodded.

"Here's what you need to work on…" he and his partner in _life_ proceeded to reread, edit her story while bonding over something other than tragedy. Just like in a fairy-tale.

* * *

**Okay, truth be told; this wasn't the ending that I had in mind when I originally went about writing it. But months later I decided whilst writing, that I wasn't going to end up with the original ending. This one came up on the fly...and I like it.**

**So I hope you all enjoyed this little story. Do leave your comments please, they are highly appreciated. And if you liked the story give it a favorite. It's a big boost for me :D**

**Until next time!**

**~Machu :D**


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